Torn
by darylsdiva1
Summary: Just a little musing about that old green eyed monster, jealousy, with Daryl Dixon caught in the middle. Post S4 Mid-Season Finale.
1. Chapter 1: It's not easy being Green(e)

_****__****__**AN: Shippers, please be excellent to each other! I have nothing against Beth, but this will ultimately be a Caryl fic, so if that's not your cup of tea, just please don't read or post nasty reviews. It just shows a lack of good manners. There's room for all of us in the TWD fandom. Thank you! DD1**_

_****__**1: "It's not easy being Green(e)"**_

_**Begins shortly after the prison group is forced to flee their home, S4 Mid-season Finale, "Too Far Gone."**_

* * *

"_Beth_—Beth you have to hang on." Daryl said as he felt the girl dip dangerously away from him as they rounded the curve. When she didn't immediately tighten her hold on his waist he slowed the big Triumph and pulled off the side of the road at the remains of a gas station, its pumps long since exploded and burned. He put the kick stand down and went from tip toes to flat footed, balancing the bike against the pull of her body, which suddenly slumped to the left, boneless. Turning quickly, he caught her before she hit the pavement, out cold.

_"Shit!"_ Daryl bit out as the bike tipped, overbalanced by both of their weight. He was able to cushion Beth, protecting her from the heavy metal crashing down on them, but felt something tear in his left knee as he tried to twist out of the way.

_"Mother fuck!"_ Daryl yelled. Not only were they in hostile territory ten or so miles out from the ruins of the prison, with only the bike and the few meagre provisions he always kept in the saddle bags, but he had apparently just totally fucked up his knee. He muscled his way out from under the bike and checked Beth for injuries as she lay across his lap, biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from releasing the torrent of profanity that bubbled up from inside his chest.

They were so screwed. He wasn't sure yet if he even knew how _totally_ screwed they were—the last time the girl in his arms had lost a parent she'd gone catatonic for days, kept alive by an IV and her father's intervention. He felt his throat close up and uncharacteristic tears pricked his eyes as he thought of the old vet; Hershel had been one tough som-bitch all the way to the end. When that cock sucker Blake had hauled him and Michonne in front of the fence in an execution pose, on their knees, he'd felt the acid burn of fear and the burning desire to destroy every single one of the group arrayed in front of the tank. And how the fuck had the sentries not heard a fucking tank roll up anyhow? Were there even any sentries on duty? Without Carol there to organize the watch...

Shit. _Carol._ Could his world be any shittier?

When Rick had quietly told him that Carol had been left behind after she and Rick had gone on a run the day before, at first he couldn't process it. And when the hell had Rick started deciding anything like dealing out life and death? Wasn't that what they'd created the council to do?

_"You couldn't wait 'til we got back?"_ Daryl had asked, working harder than he wanted to control his rage. It was Merle all over again—the all mighty Rick Grimes deciding the fate of someone he cared about.

A shuffling sound off to his left broke Daryl's reverie and he turned towards the—_god damn it_—walker. Beth was dead weight, his bow was strapped to the back of the bike, and he'd left his knife imbedded in the skull of the walker he'd used to shield himself from the gun fire of the people surrounding the tank. He looked around for something to use as a weapon and saw that his quiver had spilled out onto the pavement. Stretching around the girl he was able to snag one bolt and then shifted Beth behind him as he waited for the thing to get close enough to use it. He turned and scanned around 360, making sure no others were sneaking up on them—when there was one there were often others—but this one seemed to be a lone wolf, which right about now was what Daryl was wishing he'd remained.

He didn't want to be responsible for anyone else anymore. It always went to shit, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried. His mother, Merle, Sophia...Carol...anyone he cared about and tried to help and got close to ended up leaving him, hurting him.

"_Just tired of losin' people."_ that's what he'd said to Beth only a few days ago. And now they were all gone—Carol, Hershel, Rick, Carl, lil'ass kicker, Maggie and Glenn, Michonne—the core of his family—everyone except Beth Greene, the girl who'd told him she didn't cry anymore, didn't say goodbye anymore because she'd seen too much death and then had _hugged_ him, sweetly trying to show him she understood his guilt over the loss of her boyfriend Zack on a mission he'd led. She'd kept holding on and unsure of the rules about hugs, Daryl had let his hand rest on her soft arm, trying to take the comfort she seemed compelled to give.

She'd held it together as they ran from the front of the prison to the back, where he'd stashed his motorcycle, always ready for a quick bug out. The herd of walkers was flooding through the broken fences in a torrent, drawn by all of the gun fire and explosions, blocking their way to follow the prearranged path of the big bus carrying the majority of the surviving Woodbury residents and those still recovering from the illness. They didn't know who else had made it out, hadn't found the kids or Judith, the reason Beth had gotten off the bus, they just knew they had to get out, get away from the remains of what had been their home for the last year.

The walker stumbled closer and Daryl saw that like so many of the creatures its lips had been eaten away so it wore a permanent jack-o-lantern expression—a sort of feral leer—that made its snapping gnashing teeth all the more horrifying. And its smell...they were all pretty much used to the usual carrion stench but this one smelled like—like—G_asoline._ It was a _crispy_ critter—must've gotten caught in the gas pump explosion and reanimated, hair, eyelids, _face_ partially melted off, clothes melted to its body..._aw damn it, _one more unwanted image to haunt his nightmares. As it lurched closer Daryl caught some slight movement behind it and reached for a second bolt, but as he blindly reached back, his attention focused on the burnt man, his hand collided with something round and soft, and his fingers tangled in stretchy cloth.

_"Daryl?"_ he heard Beth say in surprise, distracting his attention. He looked back at her and saw that she was awake and had shifted position so that his hand was caught against her left breast, held there by the folds of her loose over shirt. His eyes rose to her face and she was gazing at him wide eyed. Then Daryl heard the loud solid _thunk_ of metal through bone behind him and turned back towards the walker, watching it drop, a brass knuckle long knife imbedded it its porcelain thin skull, almost cleaving it in half.

_"Daryl?"_ Carol Peletier said in breathless shock when she was revealed standing behind the now re-dead southern fried walker as it fell. In a quick assessing gaze she took in his position relative to Beth's, leaned down to pull her knife from the walker's charred skull and then stood, her arms crossed in front of her.

_"Hey Carol."_ Daryl said with a small joyful smile of relief, as both beautiful brave women pursed their lips, cocked their heads to the side and gave him almost identical considering, raised eyebrow stares.

* * *

_**More to come, not sure exactly when... My Muse doesn't exactly listen to reason. I have 2 other WIPs to work on & it's also the end of the semester grading time & getting close to holiday time, so please be patient with me, LOL! **_

_**Thanks for reading & reviewing!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Whither thou goest

_**AN: OK, so I had to go back and watch "Too Far Gone" to figure out the order of some events in this & cried all over about Hershel. The things I do for you people…**_

_**Anyhow, I'm not sure who all Rick told about Carol, so in my AU continuity Beth doesn't know that she was banished and likewise Carol doesn't know what just went down at the prison. Daryl's the only one who has the complete picture.**_

* * *

"_**Whither thou goest…"**_

"We need to get out of here, can you walk?" Carol said tersely, looking at of Daryl's left torn pants leg and the unnatural placement of his knee—it was probably dislocated...

"Dunno." Daryl admitted, still stunned by the sudden appearance of the woman that only a few hours before he'd been afraid he'd never see again. When he'd realized he was blindly clutching Beth's shirt and inadvertently her breast he'd pulled his hand back like it was on the hot burner of a stove and scowled at the both of them for staring at him. _Damn women._

"I'll help you." Beth said stoutly, drawing her legs underneath her and rising to squat beside him, her hands moving to encircle his left bicep. "Ready?" she asked him.

Daryl looked at her petite frame and grimaced—_weren't no way she could lever him up all by herself_—he thought, and he looked beseechingly at Carol for help.

"Oh for god's sake, here." Carol sighed and sheathed her knife so she could come around to his right side and grip his other arm. Whereas Beth's grip was light and firm, Carol's hands trembled as she touched his bare arm and her eyes rose unbidden to his, filled with some strong emotion he couldn't identify, but she quickly looked away.

"Now are you ready?" Beth asked, her voice weary.

Daryl looked at the young blonde. They'd all been through hell ever since the illness had sent the prison in a downward spiral just four short days ago. Did Beth know what Rick had done to Carol? She'd been with the kids locked up in quarantine until the attack had begun this morning. Then she had lost her father..._shit_, Carol didn't even know that Hershel was gone. Daryl sighed, deciding he'd try to wait to break the awful news. When they were safe for the night he'd take Carol aside and tell her about Hershel, and they'd be better off not telling Beth about Carol's banishment for now. He needed some time alone with her to suss out what had really happened with Karen and David anyway...he looked at Carol, wondering where she'd been since Rick had abandoned her, why she was here now, and why even after all the fucked up shit that had gone down today he felt hopeful again.

"Daryl?" Beth asked again when he failed to respond to her question, reaching her other hand to put the back of it against his forehead, looking concerned, as if she was checking Judith's temperature.

"Did you hit your head?" Carol asked, frowning down at him as he shied back from Beth's touch.

"Thought you said we needed to move." Daryl growled and Carol nodded and caught Beth's eye.

"On three?" Carol asked the girl and Beth nodded back. "One, two, and _three!"_ and both women hauled up on Daryl's strong muscular arms, allowing him to get his good right leg under him, but then he tried putting weight on his left leg and the red hot daggers of pain that shot through it made him overbalance and he swayed against Carol so that she had to put both arms around his torso to keep him from falling.

_"Shit!"_ Daryl bit out even as he leaned more heavily on Carol to keep the weight off of his injured knee.

"I'll splint it for you, but when Hershel looks at it—" Carol started to say, but Beth made a strangled sound and released Daryl's arm, backing away from the two of them, holding her hand to her mouth, her eyes glazing over.

_"Beth!"_ Daryl said, reaching his left hand out to her.

"What is it?—oh god—what is it?" Carol asked, realizing something was horribly wrong. Hershel and Caleb would've been their first line of defense against the illness, but the old vet was supposed to be in quarantine with the kids.

"He's dead." Beth said in an anguished whisper, "Daddy's dead."

"What?" Carol cried, horrified. "Oh my god, _Beth_, I am so sorry." and then she said in a quieter voice to Daryl, "Who else? Glenn? Lizzie?"

"Weren't the sickness." Daryl told Carol, swallowing hard, remembering the way the crimson blood had soaked the collar of Hershel's white t-shirt after the Governor's cruel blow with Michonne's katana, hacking through the side of his neck.

_"Not?"_ Carol looked confused.

"Governor came back—with a tank and an army." Daryl told her. "Ambushed 'Chonne and Hershel while they was out burning bodies. Told us he wanted the prison for his group. Rick tried to negotiate with 'im."

Carol's face hardened. The former deputy sheriff was _not_ on her list of favorite people.

"It's all gone." Beth said. "We shoulda just done what he said, left...daddy would still be alive...we'd be with Maggie and Glenn and Judith...oh god Daryl, what happened to _Judith_?" she started hyperventilating and Daryl looked helplessly at Carol, who put her shoulder under his, helping him hop over closer to Beth so he could put his left arm around the girl's shoulders and she turned into his side, burying her face in his chest.

"The tank took down the fences, the bus left, walkers were everywhere—we barely got out—it was like the last night at the farm all over again." Daryl explained in a harsh whisper, looking over top of Beth's head at Carol meaningfully, silently reminding her that he'd come to her rescue that night, just as he had for Beth today.

"Sooner or later we run." Carol intoned sadly, remembering Daryl's words to Hershel and the rest of the council. She looked away from him over at Beth and that crease between her eyebrows deepened. Daryl frowned at her.

_"What?"_ he asked, confused by the way she was acting.

"We'll have to leave the Triumph for now." Carol said, ignoring his question and slipping into that brisk efficient tone he knew so well. "Car's around back—you got anything useful in those saddlebags?" Daryl nodded affirmatively.

"Beth!" Carol said, not unkindly, but sharply, needing to snap her out of her numbness for now so they could get going. "Honey, I need your help."

Beth looked up at the older woman, some anger showing at being made to do something besides give up and be held.

"I have to get Daryl to the car, so I need you to get everything useful off of the bike, ok? Can you do that?" Carol asked in that same sharp tone. She knew the teenager was in shock, but they'd have to deal with that later; right now it was getting close to dusk and they didn't want to be out in the open after dark.

"Beth?" Daryl asked, "Saddlebags?" and Beth blinked up at him, her big blue eyes liquid and a bit dazed, but then she nodded at him. "Get yer knife out—watch yerself." He added.

"Ok, Daryl." the girl said and released him, taking and letting out a breath, unsheathing her knife and moving back to the bike.

_"Ok Daryl."_ Carol muttered under her breath, and Daryl looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Let's move." was all Carol said. She led him around the side of the burnt out gas station to the open lean to garage behind it and had him prop himself against the side of the building while she went inside and started up the engine, backing out a late model red Jeep Cherokee. She opened the passenger side back door and moved to help him in, but when she tried ducking under his shoulder again to support him, he stopped her and pulled her into an awkward hug. Shocked, she held herself stiffly at first, but when he rested his chin on the top of her head she relaxed against him and put her arms around his waist, holding him close.

"Can't believe you're here..." Daryl said softly, "I'as ready to take on Tyreese so's I could come find ya before the fuckin' Governor showed up."

"You _were_?" Carol asked, not quite believing him. Daryl was Rick's right hand man...she thought of what she'd called him the night they'd left the farm, the leader's _henchman_... _"And I'm a burden..."_ she'd said of herself. She abruptly let go of the tracker and took a step back to put some distance between them. Daryl reluctantly released his hold on her.

"Gonna have a long talk 'bout _all _this shit—you n' me—when we get some where's safe, ahright?" Daryl said pointedly, but Carol was saved from responding by Beth's arrival carrying the heavy bags in her hands and Daryl's bow, quiver and poncho slung over her shoulder.

"Thought Rick said you had a station wagon." Daryl asked, looking at the vehicle. He'd forced some more details about what supplies Carol had been given out of Rick as they had gone looking for Tyreese in the Tombs.

"Station wagon?" Carol snorted. "That piece of shit died on me two hours after Rick watched my tail lights fade." She kicked the front right tire of the new vehicle. "He left _my_ Cherokee in that Podunk town when he and Glenn went after Hersh—" Carol cut herself off and quickly glanced over at Beth who was stoically opening the back hatch of the car to load the bags. "Any how—I saw this one on the highway, empty thank god, and knew all about it—Ed made sure _he _didn't have to do maintenance on my car by making me learn how to do it."

"You are a wonder, woman." Daryl said with a tiny smile. "So where do we go?"

_"Entreat me not to leave thee, and to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people and thy God my God._ Book of Ruth 1:16..." Beth intoned from the side of the vehicle where she'd come to stand after closing the back hatch. Her eyes were unfocused and she was as pale as milk. Carol and Daryl both looked at her with concern.

_"Beth?"_ Daryl said, reaching out his hand to her, his voice careful, warm, pitched a little higher than normal. It was the same tone Carol had heard between them before…the night before everything fell apart.

* * *

It was why Carol hadn't uttered his name in her defense when Rick had been listing the reasons why he wouldn't have her back at the prison. With everything else going on, she'd deliberately put Daryl from her mind, trying to wall him off in the same way she had done with Ed, with Sophia, all of the people and things that if she let them would pull her under like quicksand, drowning her in liquid mud from which she could never escape.

They hadn't seen her. When she'd heard the news about Zack, she'd been on her way to Beth's cell to comfort her over the loss of another one so dear to her, remembering how the youngest Greene had shut down after her mother and Shawn, and after Patricia and Jimmy. But Daryl was already there, breaking the news, so she waited down the corridor until he finished. When the silence came she looked down towards the cell and saw something unexpected, Daryl and Beth embracing, at first awkwardly, and Carol smiled slightly, knowing how uncomfortable that would make Daryl.

In the entire time she had known him they'd never really hugged; she could count on one hand the times when he'd voluntarily touched her when he wasn't rescuing her from a herd or from near death in that cell in Solitary. Their typical interaction was like the one this morning, a nudge and a teasing sarcastic comment. There was warmth there, an attempt at broaching decades old barriers against touch, but—wait—was that Daryl's hand lifting to hold the girl closer? The intensity of Beth's gaze as she turned it up to Daryl's already lowered head, his sad guilty face, made Carol take a step back, turn and walk quickly away, back to the door to the prison yard.

Carol's face was hot and she held her cold numbed hands to her cheeks to cool it. She told herself she was being ridiculous—Daryl and Beth? She was barely eighteen and he was—well, she wasn't exactly sure how old Daryl was, but probably old enough to be her father. Well, what difference did that make in this new world they were living in? What man wouldn't want a beautiful young fresh faced innocent? And a strong vital warrior like Daryl was the kind of man who women dreamed of coming to their rescue. Many a relationship began from comfort given over a loss…

Oh god, she felt like an addlepated teenager herself. The way she'd been mooning over the tracker for almost two years now, never confident enough to push for anything more than the deep friendship and trust they shared. But how could she compete with someone like Beth? She'd already resigned herself to him hooking up with someone from the Woodbury group, thought that maybe he and Karen—even Michonne and he, out on their search for the Governor would start something, but had allowed herself a tiny sliver of hope, knowing his shyness around women, his apparent reluctance to let any relationship move beyond friendship.

And then when she'd found them today, sprawled next to the overturned motorcycle, touching so intimately, she wondered not at them being together, but what had happened to draw them together so _quickly._ Granted, he'd known Beth almost as long as anyone in their group, but that didn't explain why he'd choose to let the girl in, when he'd kept the wall between her, Carol and he so firmly erected for so long. She knew he cared about her, valued her friendship and contributions to the group, but she supposed that in the end he just wasn't attracted to her like that… as a _woman_. A thin, freckled, pale, silver haired smart mouthed bossy woman with enough scars inside and out to give any man pause, let alone one dealing with his own demons of abuse. No, the sweet young song bird, sheltered Beth Greene who'd never had a hand laid on her in anger, was a much better choice for her Daryl…_her Daryl_…god, she was ridiculous, she said to herself.

* * *

"Beth?" Daryl said again and she looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"He cut off his head. I saw it." Beth swayed against the side of the car, hanging on to the door handle with her left hand. "Why did he do that, Daryl? Why did he cut off my daddy's head?"

"Because he's a monster, Beth." Carol said stoically before Daryl could respond, "A monster hiding behind a human face." Carol went to her young friend then and enveloped her in a hug. Daryl looked at the strong woman who'd outlived her own monsters moving to comfort the girl who had already lost so much.

"_Was_ a monster—Michonne got him—katana through the chest." Daryl told them. That had been the last thing he'd seen before tossing the grenade into the mouth of the tank's big gun: 'Chonne skewering Blake so he'd release Rick. Carol nodded at him in understanding.

The groans and slip sliding gait of a walker slowly dragging itself along on the pavement to their right drew all of their attention sharply away and Carol released Beth.

"Quick now, let's get Daryl in back so he can stretch out his leg." She asked Beth for help, putting her hand on the girls' shoulder, knowing that giving her something to do was the best thing.

"We all have our jobs to do." Beth said in a monotone, looking at the ground.

"That's right—and right now yours is making sure he stays still and doesn't wrench that knee any worse before I can get it splinted, ok?" Carol asked, looking down at Beth until she met her eyes and then they nodded at each other. They went to Daryl and got him into the backseat with his legs stretched out. As Beth worked on buckling him in and then climbed in to sit beside him, Carol strode over to the walker slouching towards them. It was missing both of its feet and one arm from the elbow down, but its hunger still drove it forward towards the food source it knew they'd be if it could only reach them. She stopped in front of it and the creature looked up at her, raising its remaining hand beseechingly, its pitiful face that of what had once been a young woman with long blonde hair now matted and blood soaked, its fashionable clothing partially burned away.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Carol said quietly, and then plunged her long knife into its head.

* * *

_**Carol was abused and put down for so long she's not thought of herself as attractive in a very long time. What's vital to her sense of self-worth is that she is strong, capable, and able to care for others, a survivor. Beth's beauty is not all that important to her—she'd much rather be complimented on her singing or good care for Judith than on how shiny her hair is. That's one of the things they both like about Daryl. He treats people with respect based on what they can do, not on how they look.**_

_**That being said, the combination of Carol's unselfish love for Daryl and her own insecurities are leading her to push Beth, who she also loves like a daughter, towards him…**_

_**But Daryl just might have an opinion of his own about what (and who) is best for him.**_


	3. Chapter 3: the gates of death

_**Thanks to all the readers, followers, favorites & reviewers. It's been great reading your comments on the first 2 chapters. It's brutally cold here in the Plains today so it's been nice to have some fellow Carylers to keep me warm. Enjoy!**_

* * *

_**3: **_"_**You who lift me up from the gates of death."**_

"I saw this when I was on the run with Rick." Carol lied for Beth's sake as she pulled into the cul de sac driveway of a gated home in the hills of a well to do section of a town about 8 miles from the prison. She'd slowly been exploring the area between it and her former home, still drawn there, hoping perhaps that she'd see someone..._all right be honest with yourself, Carol_,... hoping she'd see _Daryl_ back from the Vet school run or out hunting.

_"Jesus, Carol!"_ Daryl exclaimed, and Beth lifted her head from his shoulder where she'd leaned for most of the ride, half asleep, mentally and physically exhausted.

"What?" Beth asked, blinking, and then she too saw what had so arrested Daryl's attention. All around the front exposure, at least the equivalent of half a city block, someone had wired the bodies of walkers to the fence, one after another, like a sick parody of handholding freedom fighters uniting en masse against brutal apartheid police with clubs.

"Oh _God._.." Beth said in a small horrified voice.

"It will keep them away." Carol said, her voice sounding rusty, staring at the gates.

_"It will."_ Daryl said, immediately understanding.

"When I was here before, some of them were still moving." Carol explained. In reality she'd spent most of her first day here methodically finding the movers and ending them. The fence of the mutilated dead was an abomination and probably a biohazard, but alone with only herself as defense, it had been a compromise she'd had to make to stay safe.

_"Have mercy on me O Lord. Consider my trouble from those who hate me. You who lift me up from the gates of death._ Psalms 9:13." Beth recited.

Carol shivered at the eerily apt Old Testament quotation.

"You gonna have one a those for every occasion?" Daryl asked Beth dryly.

"Daddy did." Beth said, looking up at him with those luminous blues, her lower lip quivering. Daryl's lower lip curved up into a rueful apologetic frown.

"_Shit_-sorry, Beth." he muttered and he tentatively put his left arm around her shoulders and she snuggled closer to him. Watching them in the mirror Carol sighed and gave it a few beats before she made her next request.

"Beth—pull it through after I open the gate, OK?" Carol asked and got out of the car, leaving the engine running and Beth untangled herself from Daryl's arm and moved from the back seat to take over the wheel. Carol pushed open the tall metal gate after unlocking the large padlock holding the chains around the center posts together, blocking the action with her body, hoping Beth wouldn't wonder at how she'd been able to do it. She'd added the new lock after cutting through the previous one with the bolt cutters she'd found in the Cherokee. As they passed through, Daryl was impressed by the height of the brick and metal fence that ran all the way around the property, wondering why they hadn't come across it during their long winter wanderings after the farm. It might've made a decent B site for their evacuation plan. Leave it to Carol to find the safest place around.

Carol closed and locked the fence behind them, scanning the street, looking for any walkers or others who might have been attracted by the engine noise. Usually this was the part of coming and going she feared most, vulnerable by herself at the gate. It was a relief to have people with her again. Rick's mantra "people are the best defense against walkers," had rung in her ears when she drove away from him, _alone. _Beth stopped the Jeep, waiting for her, and Carol opened the passenger side door and slid in, fastening her seatbelt.

"Let's try all the way at the end,"Carol told Beth, pointing at the smaller house to the right of a large mansion. They saw no sign of either walkers or humans—Carol had found neither in her thorough inspection of the place, but they still proceeded cautiously.

Beth slowed and then brought the vehicle to a stuttering stop in the driveway of the small brick house. The garage door was down, but the man sized door beside it had a flimsy lock, promising a point of egress. Leaving Daryl and Beth in the car over both of their protests, Carol went in to "clear" the house. In reality in addition to inspecting the house for walkers again she was gathering up the few things of hers that she'd left after spending the last two nights there and putting them out of sight. When she returned and gave them the all clear, she opened the garage door for the vehicle.

Beth had been learning to drive the old school bus they had brought from Woodbury and she wasn't used to a more refined vehicle, so when the red Cherokee rolled into the open garage she stepped on the brakes a bit too hard and Daryl grunted as he was flung forward in his seat, restrained by the belt, his knee jarred so it felt like someone was driving a metal spike through it.

_"Fuck!"_ Daryl bit out the word before he could stop himself.

"Sorry!" Beth said, turning in her seat to look back at her passenger in apology, looking like she was about to burst into tears.

""S'all right, sweetheart." Daryl drawled smoothly, but then gritted his teeth against the pain, not wanting Beth to feel worse than she already did. He heard the sharp click of a seatbelt unfastening and saw Carol get out and slam her door behind her. The door next to him was wrenched open and her no nonsense clinical medical face greeted him.

"It hurts." Carol said in a low flat voice. Daryl scowled at her. Carol took a breath and huffed it out. "That's good—it means the nerves weren't severed." she told him, leaning in and reaching over him to unhook his seat belt, her hand inadvertently brushing against the fly of his stained and torn brown dungarees just as he shifted his hips forward and his hand lifted to unhook the belt himself, trapping her hand against him. Her eyes snapped to his, wide crystal blue, and she tried to pull her hand back, but only succeeded in dragging it against his full length, making his mouth come open in sensual shock and his hand reflexively closed around hers, holding it to him.

"How can I help?" Beth asked from the front seat, sounding anxious. Carol's body leaning in front of Daryl blocked the girls' view of what was happening. _Which was __what__?_ Carol wondered, _that he'd gotten hard for his "sweetheart" and the nurse had gotten in the way? _

The hurt look that Carol's confused gaze devolved into cut Daryl to the quick—what was she thinking? That he got hard for just anyone? He opened his mouth to tell her something, anything—he wasn't sure exactly what—but then her gaze turned angry, her eyes flashing ice blue sparks.

"Come help me get him inside, _Beth._" Carol said carefully, emphasizing his girlfriend's name, clearly working to keep her temper in check. Daryl released her hand and she finished her task, unhooking his belt, albeit with shaky hands and then pointedly reached in and tossed his poncho over his lap.

"I'm so sorry Daryl!" Beth said again as she took the keys out of the ignition, unhooked her own belt and opened her door, coming swiftly around to Carol's side.

"Uh—s'ok, hey why don't you shut the garage door and then get the stuff outa the back—I'm gonna need a minute 'til this uh... _knee _stops throbbin'." Daryl asked Beth, looking at Carol the whole time. Beth looked anxiously between them, frowning at Carol's tight mouth, set in anger, but did as she was asked.

"Let me know when your _knee's_ ready to go." Carol said sarcastically and Daryl gave her a slow full out sexy grin that infuriated her.

"Maybe it just needs yer tender lovin' care." he drawled, reaching for her hand again, but she snatched it back, looking back at Beth, who had finished with the garage door, darkening the space, and was now methodically unloading the gear she'd taken from the motorcycle.

"Keep your hands to yourself." Carol hissed.

"Darlin' whatta ya think I _been_ _doin'_ since the Turn?" he said sotto voce, in an aggrieved tone, arching a mocking eyebrow at her behind his fringe of dark bangs, enjoying the blush that spread up from her throat to her cheeks _way _more than he should. "My _knee_ ain't felt the touch of another since I don't know when..." he added wistfully.

The man was impossible. How _dare_ he flirt with her now?

_"Liar." _Carol whispered, much to Daryl's confusion, but before he could call her on it, Beth was there beside them, carrying the saddle bags, his bow and quiver.

"Where do you want these?" Beth asked.

"Set them by the stairs over there and then come back to help me with Daryl." Carol said, diverting her attention away from the man in question to point at the interior entrance to the house which was on the other side of the garage. Taking advantage of her distraction, Daryl grabbed Carol's hand again and rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth against her palm.

"I think ya could_ handle_ me all by yerself." Daryl drawled mockingly, his voice pitched low so only Carol could hear him.

_"Stop."_ Carol breathed, willing her body to shut down its response to his teasing touch. _For him this was probably just a slightly more intimate version of the elbow bump or shoulder nudge he often gave her when she mocked him with silly nicknames, _she thought, trying to make sense of what had just happened, _but for her it was as if she was falling off the edge of a cliff_... _He just held your hand to his rock hard cock, Carol!_, the thought scurried around her tired brain like a mouse trying to escape a big black cat. In what alternate universe had she ever expected _that_ to _ever _occur?

She was at a loss to understand whatever floodgates of expression had been opened up in him for some reason... Or maybe the reason was now walking back towards them; by doing what she'd never dared, taking the initiative and making the first move, had Beth had broken through his reticence, freeing something in him that Carol had never seen before?

"Knee settled down now?" Beth said with concern as she joined them, looking down at their held hands and then back and forth between the two of them curiously.

"Think I can manage." Daryl assured her, turning his hand to grip Carol's more firmly and holding out the other to Beth so that they could help him stand, balanced precariously between the two of them on one leg.

"I think this was the chauffer's house." Carol said, pointing to the many car repair tools arrayed around the garage in addition to a well outfitted woodworkers shop.

"Musta been a mechanic too—all the better—keep the vehicles in good runnin' order." Daryl said appreciatively.

"There wasn't—nobody was?" Beth asked, shrugging her shoulder to indicate their surroundings in general.

"I didn't find any people or walkers here—Carol assured them as they got Daryl to the three stair steps leading up to the landing that entered the house and he slowly hopped up them.

"Why would they leave? You said it..._the gates_...it keeps the walkers out." Beth asked.

Carol reached out her hand and opened the inner door.

"I don't know Beth—maybe they went out scavenging and got into trouble—could be any number of things." Carol replied, going through the door first.

"We'll go tomorrow, right? When it's light out again? To the place where we're supposed to meet up—the rendezvous point?" Beth asked Daryl. Carol and he exchanged a look over Beth's head. They had a lot to talk about before making that decision.

"If we agree it's safe. I'd like to get his knee stabilized before we decide, ok?" Carol asked Beth.

"But they might not be able to wait very long—what if we miss them?" Beth asked anxiously, closing the door behind them.

"We'll find them, Beth." Daryl assured her with more confidence than he really felt.

"You can't _know_ that!" Beth rounded on him, pulling away from her hold supporting his shoulder and glaring at them both. "I have to find Maggie! She's my _sister_—you don't know! Just because _you _don't have any family anymore doesn't mean I shouldn't look for her!" she cried and both Daryl and Carol winced back at the casual cruelty of the accusation. It was true that the loss of Sophia, of Merle, had left them without any blood relations. Each death had devastated them both in their own way. To her surprise Carol felt Daryl's hand slip into hers and squeeze it tightly, as if to say, _You're not alone,_ _you have __me__. _Carol squeezed back gratefully.

"I think we all need to get some rest." Carol said evenly, unwilling to argue with Beth, knowing she was letting her fears for her sister, her grief for her father—everything—get the better of her. "Please help me get Daryl into the kitchen so I can look at his knee." Carol asked levelly. Beth narrowed her eyes and glared at the older woman stubbornly and Carol again remembered how _young_ the girl really was and pulled her hand from Daryl's.

Daryl frowned down at Carol, realizing she'd about had it with young Miss Greene, and used his most placating honeyed tone to try and get the girl to cooperate.

"Beth?" Daryl asked. "We're all in this together, _right_? 'Many hands make light the work?' Think that's from the Bible..."

"Or _Cinderella_..." Carol murmured, starting to get where the evil stepmother had been coming from. "But of course she had mice and birds and squirrels to help _her_."

"And a fairy godmother." Daryl added, nodding, looking back at Carol and giving her a tiny grin that turned up the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I saw a fireplace here in the living room—so watch out or you'll be on cinder duty, missy." Carol warned, regaining her sense of humor a little to tease Beth, who looked perplexed at the odd direction the conversation had taken.

"Guess that makes you Prince Charming." Beth ventured, trying to join in, making Daryl snort at her and Carol smile.

"How ya figure that?" Daryl scowled at her. First time anyone had called _him _a prince.

"You keep rescuing damsels in distress." Beth said, looking meaningfully at Carol, who missed the look because she was enjoying Daryl's discomfort, watching him squirm. Daryl slanted his eyes at Carol.

"Well, I think the queen here saved _my_ bacon today." Daryl said, and Carol blushed.

"_Both_ of ours—I should've thanked you for that, Carol." Beth said apologetically, finally coming over to help with moving Daryl.

"You're welcome, honey." Carol said, remembering all of the time she and Beth had spent together over the last year caring for Judith and the other little ones, preparing meals, practicing weapons training, and setting up the prison library. The hours she had spent listening to Beth go on and on about Zack and her relationship when Maggie couldn't take it anymore. She really did love the girl and wanted what was best for her...she just wasn't sure what was best for her was _Daryl_...how could he be with Beth and yet behave so outrageously just now in the car? She'd expect behavior like that from Merle or even Shane, but _Daryl_?

Daryl's long lean body was pressed against her, supported by the women's shoulders under his as they slowly made their way through the living room area to the kitchen. Carol had him sit up on the sturdy pine kitchen table and turned on the big battery powered Coleman lantern already setting there. She'd found it in the station wagon when she'd cleaned it out transferring her things to the Cherokee. She'd also found the personal belongings of the young couple that it had belonged to and had to school herself to stoicism to be able to sort through them looking for anything she could use to keep herself alive. Carol could still see the poor girl's chewed off leg, bent from serious injury, on the other side of the garden gates, a last horrific reminder of how dangerous this world was. And then Rick had expelled her from her paradise, the safety behind the fences and gates of the prison where everyone she loved had been. She looked down at Daryl's knee. If this didn't heal correctly he'd be in the same sort of danger, unable to run...

"Beth, make sure all of the blinds are shut tight and then light the oil lamps I saw in here and the living room, please. Oh–and here." Carol said, handing Beth a flashlight, "So you can see better what you're doing, right?" Night had fallen quickly as they had moved into the house interior and with the curtains drawn it was very dark in the two rooms. She wanted to attract neither the living nor the dead with any sort of light.

"Then you can bring our stuff inside, Ok?" Daryl asked and Beth nodded and started on her tasks. "Hey— " Daryl said, and Beth stopped and frowned at him, "Be careful—watchful—ya never knew what might be just around the corner." he warned, handing her his cigarette lighter for the oil lamps, fussing like a mother hen.

"Always." Beth said and to his surprise she came to stand in front of him and after setting down the lighter and flashlight on the table, she put her hands on his shoulders and then kissed him on his scruff covered cheek. Carol turned away, not wanting to witness a tender moment, but she was the next to be surprised when she felt Beth's hand on her arm, tugging her back into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad we found each other." Beth said and leaned up to kiss Carol's cheek. Then she released Carol from the embrace and reached out to clasp hands with both Daryl and Carol. "Can you imagine if one of us was out here all alone?" she said, with unconscious irony, holding both of their hands tightly. "But I should have known," she said, smiling at Carol, "Daryl always finds _you_—it's like there's this invisible thread between the two of you, isn't there?" Beth said, "He'd go riding through the gates of hell to get you if he had to," and she smiled beatifically at them both, pulling their hands together in front of her and placing Carol's smaller inside Daryl's larger calloused one. Then she picked up her two light sources and walked away to begin her task of further illuminations.

Carol's eyes were fixed on the sight of her hand together with Daryl's. She had no idea what had just happened. Daryl interlaced his fingers with hers and raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to the back of it, his moustache and chin whiskers tickling there. He reached his other hand out and lifted Carol's chin so she had to meet his determined gaze, her look of total confusion telling him that he had some explaining to do.

"Smart girl, our Beth." Daryl said softly.

* * *

_**Awww...**_** Beth ships Caryl.**

**I enjoy how Daryl has turned the tables on Carol—flirting with her until she utters **_**"Stop."**_** in the same way he always responded to **_**her**_** teasing.**

**I also like the irony that Carol thinks it was Beth's hug in the cells that jumpstarted Daryl's libido, but in reality it was the thought that he'd lost Carol when Rick announced that he'd left her behind.**

_**They are in a dire and dangerous situation out on the road on their own, but they need to take time to rest and recharge here in the relative safety behind the 'gates of death' so they can make a plan for their next move. Beth of course wants to find the others, but it's not quite so clear cut for Carol. Daryl feels responsibility to help and protect them both and so he might have some hard decisions ahead...**_


	4. Chapter 4: John 8:32

_**AN: This chapter begins immediately after the previous one.**_

* * *

_John 8:32_

"I need to look at your leg." Carol said, turning her head to the side and looking away, trying to pull her face and hand out of Daryl's grasp.

"That can wait a bit—need to know what's goin' on in that pretty lil' head a'yers." Daryl said softly, refusing to let her escape.

_"Don't." _Carol said, and big tears welled in her eyes.

"Don't _what_?" Daryl asked, tilting his head and leaning closer, the shaggy hair on his forehead brushing hers.

"Don't _lie_ to me." Carol whispered and a tear spilled over to run down her face. Daryl touched his lips to her cheek, catching the drop on his tongue, hearing her sharp intake of breath at the act and then let his mouth slide to hers for a devastatingly gentle kiss while at the same time he pulled her forward into the V created by his sprawled open thighs until he held her up tight against his body. He released her chin and wrapped his arms around her, lost in the opportunity to do what he'd wanted to do for so long, plundering her soft sweet mouth with his.

Carol decided that she was still asleep, alone on the couch of the small brick house she'd been lucky enough to find after her exile. Dreams of Daryl were nothing new, even dreams of kissing him, but never before had they been so vivid, so real...his mouth was perfect, soft but firm, his tongue the same, not too much, not too limp, not too deep, just the right amount of spit to keep things moving without being drowned in it...he made a little whimpering sound of need and spread his long fingered hands over her ass, circling there, making her gasp and fist her hands in the lapels of his leather vest to hold him closer, using _her_ tongue now to let him know she liked what he was doing with his hands, and she felt his deep chuckle rumble through his chest in appreciation as he deepened the kiss.

_"_What should I_—Um Oh—Ah?—crap!—sorry!"_ Beth exclaimed from behind them, slamming Carol up hard against the reality that this _wasn't_ a dream, that she was in fact _making out with Daryl Dixon_ and his girlfriend had just walked in on them. She pushed against his chest, humiliated, and pulled her mouth from his, again trying to escape his strong grip, but he held her firmly.

"Little _busy_, Beth." Daryl said tersely, "Any chance you could find somewhere _else _in the house to be for a while?"

Before Beth could respond Carol slapped Daryl hard across the face and he was so shocked he let her go and she stumbled back.

_"Carol? What the hell?"_ Daryl asked—he _knew_ she'd been as into the kiss as he had—why was she acting like she was an unwilling participant?

"You're _not _the last man on earth, Dixon—you're not entitled to _all _of the women." Carol said haughtily and wiped her tears away angrily as she stalked out of the room.

Beth and Daryl exchanged a confused look.

"What the fuck's she talkin' about?" Daryl muttered, trying to stand so he could go after her, but Beth came swiftly to him and put her hand on his chest to stop him.

"I'll go." Beth said, and then gave him a speculative look. "Is this always what happened when you kissed someone? They hit you?"

"More often than I'd like to admit." Daryl said ruefully, adding, "S'why I don't do it much." making Beth grin. The girl looked towards the door way through which Carol had vanished. Then they heard the outer door to the garage slam as well.

"You love her, don't you?" Beth said, tilting her head at him. Daryl sighed a deep sigh and met Beth's sympathetic eyes. He bobbed his head just once and then looked away in embarrassment.

"She's too good fer the ugly ass likes a 'me; don't know what she could ever see in me to make me worth the trouble, but yeah, so much it... well...it hurt to _breathe_ when I thought I'd never see her again." Daryl admitted in a low desperate voice. He wasn't used to talkin' about his feelings with anyone...except _Carol. _

When Rick had made his shattering accusations against Carol, Daryl's first reaction had been anger—what their former leader had done was tantamount to a death sentence and they both knew it. Then denial—it _wasn't_ Carol—yes, she'd do anything to protect the group, but doing something so final, so violent, and acting without telling anyone? No,that just wasn't her. There had to be another explanation. They should've talked about that first, but he'd been so happy to see her, so relieved that she was alive that he'd let the depth of his feelings for her take over and gave into the need to kiss her.

"And she's here, now." Beth smiled, but then frowned, trying to puzzle out what could be wrong, "... but what did she say? '...you're not entitled to _all _of the women'?" Beth asked.

"Ain't never been nobody but her—don't know what's she's goin' on about." Daryl said with bewildered righteousness.

"You _were_ touching my boob when she found us." Beth said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"_Shit_—sorry—_shit_—ya know that weren't..._not_ on purpose!" Daryl stuttered defensively.

"I know, but does _she_?" Beth wondered aloud, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

"She thinks you n' _me_ got something goin' on?" Daryl asked incredulously. How had he fucked this up so royally without even trying? Beth was a kid—young enough to be _his_ kid if it came down to the math—and up until a few days ago she'd had Zack—was _that_ what wasgoin' on in Carol's head?

"Oh, how I wish Maggie and Glenn were here!" Beth giggled, a tiny bit hysterically, and leaned on the table until she got herself under control.

"What the hell, Beth—so do I but—" Daryl asked, but was interrupted.

"We had a _bet_." Beth said, wiping the tears from her giggle fit away. God, it felt good to laugh, she'd been afraid she couldn't do it anymore. "On whether or not you and Carol were doin' it."

"Fuckin' nosy Parkers—_all _y'all." Daryl muttered, scowling.

"I just said you were in love, but too shy to do anything about it; Glenn's the one who said it was you stealin' his condoms." A box had gone missing about three weeks ago. Beth knew for a fact it had been Zack who'd lifted them, but she hadn't been about to admit that to her very over protective brother in law.

"God damn Korean bastard," Daryl fumed. "I'as the one who gets 'em their supply when I'm out on runs—if I needed rubbers I'd just kept 'em!" Daryl paused in his rant and looked at Beth, disheveled, dirty, and exhausted like they all were. She was just a poor lost orphan kid now, like the rest of them. So very young...how could Carol think that'd he'd... with a girl he thought of like a kid sister? He looked over the doorway she'd left by again.

"You know she loves you too." Beth said quietly, putting her hand on his forearm.

"Got an interesting way a' showin' it." Daryl snorted softly, raising his hand to his still stinging cheek—for a little woman she packed a _hell _of a wallop.

"If she didn't," Beth told him, "She wouldn't have cared enough to hit you."

As a child of abuse that last statement struck him as all kinds of wrong, but he also knew Carol's history. She was fighting back the only way she knew how, defending both herself_ and_ Beth against a man she thought was in his own way being abusive by being unfaithful. Damn, she was ten kinds of confused.

"Better go talk to her." Daryl agreed, "Needs to know what's what—better hearin' it from you."

"_And you shall know the truth, and the truth will make you free._ John 8:32." Beth recited and grinned at him as he rolled his eyes at another apropos Bible quotation.

"You need anything before I go?" Beth asked solicitously, knowing he was stuck at the table until hopefully Carol came back. Daryl looked uncomfortable and ducked his eyes, but then sighed.

"Think you could look around and find me a pot to piss in?" he said in a small voice.

"Do you one better—there's a half bath right around the corner—I just used it and it flushes and everything—I'll help you in there and then go talk to Carol." Beth told him, moving closer and lifting his arm over her shoulder to help him stand.

"Yer a good person, Beth." Daryl said, wincing a little at how much his muscles had stiffened up from sitting still for so long. He limped and hopped along with her, trying not to lean too heavily on her, but she reminded him she was strong farm girl. They made it to the small room in the hallway between the living room and kitchen with no major mishaps. Beth looked at their reflections in the big mirror over the sink and frowned a bit angrily.

"What?" Daryl asked when he saw her scowl.

"You said you were ugly." she reminded him, her eyebrows drawn together in consternation.

"Yeah?" he smirked. He knew he weren't no Shane or Rick or Glenn or Zack—handsome men all—hell, even that son of a bitch Governor had been better lookin' than ol' ornery beady eyed skinny Daryl Dixon.

"You're _not."_ Beth said fiercely. _"Look_—you've got what all my romance novels rave about—broad shoulders, narrow hips, great arms, high cheekbones, all that thick dark hair fallin' in those blue eyes—and besides that you're one of the _kindest_ _bravest_ men any of us have ever known. That's what _Carol _sees in you, Daryl."

And with that, Beth left him standing in front of the mirror to look at his reflection and contemplate her words.

_"You'd be proud of me, daddy."_ Beth whispered, looking heavenward as she walked towards the garage,_ "I'm tryin' to help Carol and Daryl see some truths."_ It was good. It gave her a reason to keep going, keep moving, and keep living. Find Maggie, Glenn, find Judith...keep moving, keep living.

* * *

"Carol?" Beth called as she pushed open the door to the garage, holding her pistol in her right hand at her hip and the small flash light in her left. Even though the house had been cleared she was still a bit jittery about being in a strange new place. When she saw it was clear she stuffed the gun in the back of her pants. The room was lit by one of the oil lamps and it gave off a soft orange yellow glow. Carol had covered all of the windows with a combination of cardboard and table cloths, blocking the light from the exterior view.

"He can't do that to you, Beth." Carol said angrily without turning around from the workbench where she was sorting through the tools and implements, putting aside the ones that would make good walker killers, the long screwdrivers, always Lori's go-to one; the claw hammers, an axe that needed to be sharpened, a crow bar...she jumped and dropped the crow bar with a heavy clank as it fell on the other tools when she felt a soft hand grip her shoulder.

_"Carol." _Beth said quietly and Carol turned to face her.

"I'm so sorry" Carol said miserably. "I don't know how it happened—we... we were talking and then he was kissing me and—"

"I know how it happened." Beth said patiently and Carol stopped and frowned at her guiltily.

_"Beth..."_ Carol tried again, but Beth smiled and took Carol's hands in hers.

"It happened because he loves you." Beth said gently and Carol frowned in confusion.

"Beth –_no_—he—I—I _saw_ you." Carol told her.

"That was an accident—he was reaching for an arrow to kill a walker and I got in the way—"

"No—I mean, not_ just_ that—I saw you in your cell—the night that Zack—"

"When I hugged him? Oh Carol—I just felt bad for him, he was so sad—it was like hugging a store mannequin he was so uncomfortable!" she laughed lightly. "Not like what I just saw in the kitchen—he had himself wrapped around you so tight I couldn't tell where he ended and you began!"

Carol blushed, remembering.

"He's a good man—and they're not like buses these days—there won't be another along in ten minutes." Beth squeezed her hands. "Do you love _him_?"

"Beth! I can't...I'm not—"

"If you're going to say you're not good enough for him I'll have to shake you. You're perfect for each other. We all see it."

_"All?"_

"There was a pool." Beth said with an impish grin, but then sobered. "Zack took the bets."

Carol pulled her young friend into a hug and Beth rested her head sideways on Carol's upper chest while Carol brushed the girl's hair back off her face with her hand.

"This is a terrible time for all of us. Everything just ...sort of _fell apart_ after Zack died, didn't it?" Carol said, wishing with all her heart that they could go back to the time before the sickness came, before the unalterable decisions that changed everyone's lives had been made.

"But don't you see? _Something_ good had to come out of all of this! Daryl told me that he couldn't breathe when he thought he'd lost you..." Beth told her.

"He _said_ that?" Carol asked, the idea of Daryl saying something so romantic took _her _breath away. Beth raised her head, nodded and then released her friend.

"I helped him to the bathroom before I came out here—he's probably swearing a blue streak wondering why I didn't come back for him yet—I'll work out here, sorting weapons, right?" Beth asked, making sure she understood her task. "Besides, you actually _do_ need to take care of his _knee_ don't you?" she added guilelessly, "Go on then." and Carol wondered for a second if the girl knew just exactly what had happened earlier in the back seat... with Daryl's "knee."

"Thank you." Carol said, nervously running her hand through her short silvered curls, "Oh god, I must look a fright!"

"He must've thought you looked nice enough when he had his hands plastered to your butt a little bit ago." Beth snorted, "Quit stalling."

Carol took a deep breath and nodded, giving Beth a small smile and headed back into the house.

* * *

_Damn women, how long of a conversation was needed anyway?_ Daryl fumed as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet in the small bathroom. _Just tell Carol that there weren't nothin' goin' on twixt him and Beth and bam—enough said._ He felt like he'd been sitting here for an hour when in reality it had only been a few minutes in the grand scheme of things. He knee ached like a son of a bitch, though he had found some only slightly outdated Ibuprophen in the medicine cabinet and had taken four a little bit ago.

_What if she didn't feel the same way? What if he'd just been fooling himself and she was just—no, he'd felt her respond to the kiss, the embrace—she'd only pushed him away when Beth came in...but what if—_

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Daryl?" It was her. "May I come in?"

"Sure." he said and she pushed the door open. He drank the sight of her in, her slender frame, rounded in just the right ways at her breast and hip, her turned up nose and those eyes, blue like the purest summer sky. _God, he loved her._

"Carol , I—" but that's all he had the chance to say before she took three quick steps to him and took his face in her hands and kissed him for all she was worth.

* * *

_**Thanks so much to all of the wonderful reviewers—I enjoy reading what everyone's opinions are. **_

_**Welcome to all of the new favorites & follows this story has picked up over the last few days! I'll update as often as I can, but it's going to be a busy couple of weeks...**_


	5. Chapter 5: This Side of Paradise

_**Writing this has been my reward every time I finish grading a set of papers, so it got a little long—I have a LOT of papers to grade…thanks for your patience waiting for this one.**_

_**A little hurt/comfort and some M rated smut for you.**_

* * *

_**This Side of Paradise**_

"_Oh my God, Daryl...I am so sorry I hit you."_ Carol said softly, with great feeling, pressing a gentle kiss to the cheek where she'd struck him with her open hand after Beth had come upon them in the kitchen earlier. Her passionate kiss upon entering the small bathroom had somewhat made an apology to him a moot point, but she needed to _say_ it for her sake as much as his.

Carol had lived with violence perpetrated against her for most of her adult life and she worried that living the way they did now, with everyday use of weapons and deadly force so common place, could numb them to the damage it could cause the people they cared about. What had happened at the prison wasn't something she could deal with now; she wasn't ready to discuss or explain it to him, partly because the secret of what had happened wasn't fully hers to share. That he still wanted to be with her, hadn't run from or avoided her, hadn't yet told Beth that she had been banished meant that he still trusted her, believed that she'd had her reasons. That meant so much more than she could ever tell him.

And what had she done? She'd let her embarrassment, anger and hurt over what she mistakenly believed_ he_ had done—something he would've had a perfect right to do since there had been no commitments between them—lead her to hit him, physically _hurt him,_ when she knew, had seen his scars and watched him flinch away from even _good_ touch. He was a better person than she could ever hope to be.

Daryl pulled her down to sit on his lap, drawing her legs to the side so he could cradle her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

"You thought you were protecting Beth, right?" he said quietly, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

"That's part of it." Carol said slowly, letting the fingers of her right hand dare to trace a path along the muscled forearm wrapped around her waist. She smiled when she felt him give a little shiver at her delicate touch.

"What's the other part?" he rumbled softly, nuzzling her short hair absently, as if he did it all the time, and the casual intimacy of it made her catch her breath before she replied.

"You were _kissing_ me and—"

"You were kissin' _me_!" he interrupted, reminding her it hadn't been one-sided.

"_We_ were kissing." she amended.

"And _touchin_'..." Daryl said, finding the hem of her scarlet shirt at the back and pushing under it to her silken skin right at that sweet curve where back turned to bottom, circling his fingers slowly, and Carol sighed to feel his hand on her so deliberately seductive.

"And touching..." she repeated, letting her head fall back on his shoulder so she could look up at him. Was there anything in this world she loved to look at more than his dear face? She raised her hand to his cheek again, enjoying the soft scrub of his scruff against her palm.

"But you wanted me to stop—you were angry at me." he said, his brow wrinkling in understanding "I get that." and he nodded at her.

"No Daryl—I was angry at _myself_ because _I didn't want you to stop_."

"You _didn't_?" Daryl asked, staring at her mouth. His hand at the small of her back pushed lower, feeling the lace guarding her secrets from him, wanting to know them, to know everything about her.

She shook her head at him, silently telling him _no, I didn't..._mesmerized by the desire she saw in his face.

"How 'bout _now_? Whatta ya want _now_?" His mouth was only an inch from hers; he was staring into her eyes with that smoldering intensity she'd only had brief glimpses of before today.

"Don't want to talk, don't want to think—just want _you_." she breathed. The left side of Daryl's mouth curled up into a small smile.

"Never was one for talkin' much myself." he admitted and then he closed the tiny gap still between them and touched his lips to hers, soft, like before, like their first kiss and she opened to him like a flower, slowly one petal at a time, white and pure until the center, golden sun hot burst out, heating the kiss to passion. That feeling of perfect rightness, that this was where they were always meant to be, in each others arms, like this, hit him hard and he wondered at it—why had it taken them so long to understand this? Why had it taken almost losing each other to make it real?

But then the practicalities of their situation started to crash in on him. On the face of it, this was still god awful timing—the prison was gone; the group was broken apart, scattered to the four winds. They had to take care of Beth, find the others_, pray to God_ the others had made it out and to safety—and even then, if they found them, would Rick allow Carol back? What would they tell Tyreese?—he still didn't know—neither did most of the rest of the larger group, that she'd even been gone from the prison before the Governor attacked. And if they found them, where would they go? Was _this _really a safe place or just another dead end? Who had made the walker fortified fence? Why had they left?

_"Daryl?"_ Carol asked, pulling her mouth from his to look up at him, her eyes shy but full of longing, sensing that his mind was racing.

What had she just said? Daryl thought,_ "Don't want to__ talk__, don't want to __think__—just want __you__." _They had tonight. Might not be no tomorrow. Why worry about things might never happen when he had _his_ _woman_ in his arms?

He forgot himself and started to stand up, lifting her along with him but she rapidly stood and shifted her body so she was supporting him as the bone jarring agony from his knee hit him all at once and he subsided back down onto his porcelain seat.

"_Shit!"_ he exclaimed, breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain. Pushing his hands to the side Carol found the buckle of his leather belt and swiftly, clinically, undid it and then the button of his fly and unzipped his pants. He blinked at her owlishly.

"Lift your hips." She ordered in her calm nurse's tone and he couldn't do anything but obey, bracing himself on the sides of the seat as she used her small strong hands to tug at the waist of the dirt and blood stiffened dungarees and pull them down, carefully leaving his black briefs in place. She got them to his thighs but then realized he still had on his shit kickers and knelt to untie and pull them off as well. Daryl grimaced, knowing his feet probably smelled worse than a walker's butt, but she didn't say a word, she just finished removing his pants.

Carol sighed in relief when she saw that the knee cap was in its proper place—scraped and swollen and rapidly bruising, but not dislocated. That would make his recovery a hundred times easier.

"I'll be right back." She told him and started to leave the small room, but he caught her hand in his and squinted at her assessingly.

"Promise?"

"Always." She said quietly, reassuringly and he reluctantly released her hand as she left. While he waited he looked around the room, noting a pile of what looked like magazines and brochures in the rack next to the sink and curious, he pulled one out from the middle of the stack.

"Paradise Valley?" Daryl muttered and opened the three folder advertisement to a picture of the larger mansion next to the house in which they were staying._Georgia's premiere clothing optional vacation destination!_ the copy read. "What the fuck?" he said and then continued to read: _Located in the secluded hills overlooking Dawsonville, we are the answer to all of your dreams of free and natural living._ Sitting there in his skivvies, he had to laugh, wondering if Carol realized she'd taken shelter in a Nudist Colony...

"Something funny?" Carol asked curiously as she came back in with her med kit and other supplies, including what seemed to be a set of clean clothes for him.

"I'as feelin' half naked, but turns out that just means I'd be _over _dressed for this place." he chuckled. Carol frowned at him until he handed her the pamphlet he held. She quickly looked it over and then looked thoughtful. "What?" he asked.

"Ever wonder why we don't see more naked walkers?" she asked. "I mean people don't wear clothes 24/7, right?"

"Used to sleep naked—afore I started living cheek to jowl with all y'all." Daryl agreed, nodding, and he watched the blush start at her chest and creep up her neck to pinken her cheeks at the thought of Full Monty Daryl and he grinned at her. She handed him back the brochure, avoiding his eyes, back to being shy with him.

"I'm going to clean up your knee and wrap it, ok?" she said after clearing her throat, being the no nonsense nurse again, and knelt at his feet, but she didn't just wash the one knee, she started with his feet, and the water was warm, from a bucket she had also brought in with her, the soapy washcloth soft but textured so she could scrub at the dirt ground in deep by the events of the last days.

"Do ya know how good that feels?" he moaned, watching her gently cleanse him of the grit and grime from battling the people who thought they could bully them into giving up their home. He remembered the face of the tank driver, the man who had mowed down the fences without pause when ordered to do so—who had taken to heart the Governor's last order, _"Kill them all!"_ Daryl had waited until the man looked him in the eye before he put a bolt in his heart, leaving him to turn just like Blake had left Merle, left Andrea, left Hershel, feeling no guilt that the asshole had thought he could surrender after what they had done, just ending him, stone cold.

Carol's hands moved the cloth higher, to his ankles, then calves and finally knees, especially careful of his injury, rinsing and drying with a plush towel and then taking out her rubbing alcohol to disinfect the scrapes and wrapping the knee in gauze and an Ace bandage to support it while he healed.

"Close your eyes." she requested and after he complied, she wrung out the cloth until it was more damp than dripping and stood, combing his hair back off of his face with her fingers and then washed his face, ears, and neck. He felt her right hand hesitate at his collar, fingering the mother of pearl button at the V below his throat and then she put her left hand over his heart.

"You seen 'em before—s'ok." he said softly, looking up at her trustingly, remembering the farm, what she had told him, how she had trusted _him _way back when, and then the quality of her touch subtly changed. Where before they had been sure and constantly moving as she'd worked, her hands now trembled as they unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing his lightly furred chest and belly, the span of his shoulders. She pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and he shrugged it off of his arms so she could continue her sponge bath of sorts, over collar bone and shoulder, lifting his arms one at a time, soaping and rinsing with the warm water, taking away the sweat, grease and dirt and revealing the blossoming bruises in reds, purples and yellows, layers of them from past battles, fast escapes and close calls.

She bade him shift position so she could see to his back, the long crisscrossed diagonals she'd known were there, some faded to almost white; others still livid remnants of the torture he'd endured at the hands of someone who should've protected and nurtured him. On the left, down near his waist were two more recent scars, from the arrow he'd accidentally impaled himself with for her daughter's sake, and she traced her fingers over them. His flesh had been pierced like St. Sebastian's, the saint people prayed to for relief of plagues, brought by the archer god Apollo, whose arrows carried all illnesses. Leaning close she next found the X over his left shoulder and outlined it with her lips, and he let out a shuddering breath and she dropped the wash cloth and held his shoulders with her hands while she traced and then kissed every scar on his back, every single one, celebrating what they said about him: that he'd endured; they were his badges of survival.

Daryl couldn't believe what she was doing; most people who had seen his scars just ignored them, too polite or too uncaring to bring them up, knowing he wouldn't want to talk about them, or were repulsed. One nurse in a long ago ER had given him her number when he'd been treated there after a bar fight, whispering that his scars turned her on, but he wasn't into that kink and tossed the number before he'd even left the building. He tried to stay covered, his vest as his armor, the angel's wings over a devil's work hiding them so it wouldn't be an issue, even from Merle until after Woodbury when they'd accidentally been revealed.

But Carol had already seen them, same day as Rick, same as Hershel, the two other people he had trusted most in this world. The old vet had later shared stories about his own father, cut from the same cloth as Daryl's, revealing him as a brother under the skin. Then Rick and he had bonded like brothers as well. Maybe enduring his childhood years seemed more worth it if they brought him respect from people such as those. And now Carol was silently accepting the thing about himself of which he was most ashamed.

The two deepest, the worst, the oldest, faded white, he'd had covered with the demons climbing his right shoulder. They were burns from a red hot fireplace poker held against his flesh. When her mouth reached them she let her tongue sweep out, as if she wanted to taste the bat winged creatures, feeling the different texture of the skin there, knowing what it meant. With a last kiss to the point of his shoulder she released him and stepped back, waiting for him to turn and look at her. When he did she looked nervous, but then took a breath and then pulled her shirt up and off over her head. He tried not to gasp as she turned and showed him her back, the shape of the triangular end of clothes iron burned just under her shoulder blade, all the way to her spine, still purple red.

"Once I didn't do his shirts right.._.just_ once…" Carol said quietly and Daryl thought of how many times he'd watched her heat the old fashioned iron in the coals at the quarry camp and the farm, wondering why she'd bothered ironing at the end of the world.

_"Shit…come're."_ Daryl said, reaching out and taking her arm at the elbow and pulling her back to him, his face to her shoulder, kissing the burn scar and then running his hands over the rest of her back, unhooking her bra and pushing it aside so he could see all of it. Small round white scars caught his eye next, cigarette burns—the bastard had chain smoked, lighting the next one off the butt of the last, and then it seemed, had put them out on his wife…

_"Son of a bitch."_ Daryl raged under his breath and then kissed every one he found, making her shake with need. The feel of his mouth and beard against her skin was its own kind of sensual torture and her knees went weak and she swayed back against him. He pulled her down to sit on his thigh, her legs to either side; his hands spanned her small waist and he kissed her shoulder.

"There a bed in this house?" Daryl drawled and she gave a low chuckle.

"Several actually." Carol told him, leaning back against him.

"Prob'ly a good thought to find one before we join the Paradise Valley crowd any further…" Daryl teased. Carol sat up straighter and then reached back and fastened her bra clasp back up. When he made a noise of protest Carol nodded towards the door.

"Beth." Carol reminded him, snagging her shirt off of the floor and pulling it back on despite his protests.

"Not like she don't know what's goin' on—sleeps…slept close enough to her sister n' Glenn all these months."

"That doesn't mean we need to be parading around half naked in front of her."

"Hell, just hand her the brochure."

"Daryl!"

"And what about the rest a' my bath? Some parts a me you ain't got to yet." He asked with a hint of a whine, "Like my other _knee…"_ and he captured her right hand in his and repeated what he'd done in the Jeep, drawing it down to measure his impressive length covered by the thin stretch cotton of his briefs.

"Water's probably cold now." She reminded him. She'd heated it on the small propane camping stove she'd found in the garage, "Though a little cold water might be just the thing to take that…_swelling _…down." She dead panned, and then her breath caught when that just seemed to encourage him and he shifted his hips up and down just enough to rub against her hand and whimper softly.

"Not going to make it to the bed if you keep _that _up…" Carol sighed and he shook his head and chuckled at the sassy double entendre. That was her—smart ass sexy and trusting but vulnerable, all at once.

_"Oh, the hell with it."_ She said all in a rush and he released her hand, thinking she wanted to stop, but instead she lifted and pushed her hand under the elastic waist, drew the briefs down and closed her fingers around him firmly, her thumb circling the tip to spread the drop of wetness she found there and then slid her whole hand down the broad head to the thick shaft and all the way to the root and back up, teasing, feeling him swell as the blood pumped in and through. She started to increase the tempo of her caresses, loving the contrast of the tender skin over the solid core of him, pumping now, getting into it, totally turned on to be doing this for him.

_"Shit Carol…"_ he groaned—she was killin' him—it'd been too long since he'd been touched in any remotely sexual way by another person, and he knew he couldn't take much more of this without—_Ahh __fuck._

Carol felt the tension in his abdomen spasm and release along her arm, braced against him as he came, hard, and she kept going, listening to him make the most adorable high pitched whimpers and moans, trying to stay quiet, shaking and breathing erratically with it, throbbing in her hand, sticky hot now with his come. She turned back towards him, raising her fingers to her lips and licked them slowly, tasting his essence, salty sweet, and he groaned and looked dazed, shaken by what had just happened; somewhat embarrassed that he'd gone off so quickly, but still completely turned on at what she had done. His own touch was rougher, faster than hers, but half of what got him off this time was that _she_ was the one doing it—his sweet Carol boldly using her soft strong capable little hand to-

"You ok?" she asked gently, looking at his face, wondering if she'd gone too far too fast.

"You got the magic touch," he told her with a big sigh, "Ain't no marathon man, but I usually last longer n' _that."_ he said ruefully, making her giggle.

She stood and pulled his underwear the rest of the way off of his hips and then knelt down and picked up the wash cloth again so she could use it to quickly complete his bath as he leaned back, watching her through half closed eyes, looking like he was about to fall asleep. When she finished, he sat up and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him in a hug.

_"Thank you,"_ he whispered, his mouth at her ear and then softly kissed her neck right behind her ear. "Bed now, 'kay?" he asked, wanting to show her what he could do for her. She kissed him, not nearly as long as he'd have liked, and then stood.

"Brought you some clothes." she gestured to the neatly folded pile she'd set within arm's reach of him on the floor, "You can get dressed and I'll go check on Beth and then we can get you situated for the night. She's basically been doing first watch while I treated your knee."

Daryl frowned at her. Here he was laid up, literally caught with his pants down, and she was the one thinking it through, thinking about keeping guard over them in this new place.

"Damn—you're right, we should take turns on watch." he said, sitting up straighter and grabbing the loose sweat pants she'd picked to fit over his bandaged knee and pulling them on, but she shook her head at him.

"You'll heal faster if you get some food into you and you get a good night's sleep—we need you back to 100% as soon as possible." she said with great pragmatism.

"_Parts _of me are already at 100%." he drawled, thrusting his chin out and cocking his head to the side with a sly little smile.

"Oh I'd say a hundred and _ten._.." she said and gave him his same smile back.

"That offer you made awhile back still on the table?" Daryl asked her with a squint.

"Offer?"

"Wanna screw a-_round_." He demanded, growling out the last syllable and snagging the hem of her shirt and dragging her back to him, his face even with her chest. He buried his face in her cleavage, kissing over the flesh revealed by the low neckline of her tank top while his hands smoothed over her belly underneath the light shirt.

"You don't play fair." she moaned.

"Damn straight." he rumbled and his fingers pushed up under her bra, lifting it out of the way along with her shirt, baring her small plump breasts to his questing mouth, worrying the nipples into rigid sensitized peaks, and then suckling there until she cried out and held his head to her, fingers gripping the long strands of his hair. Next his hands moved to the snap and zipper of her khakis, swiftly unfastening them and making her gasp out a little protest as he unceremoniously stripped them down her legs and made a sound of impatient annoyance when he was forestalled by her boots, forcing him to lift his mouth from her breast so he could concentrate on lifting her to sit, bare assed on the sink counter next to them while he unbuckled and worked the Doc Martens off her. Then he snagged the pants and her panties again, making quick work of them and before she realized what he was about, thinking he would bring her back to his lap, he turned sideways on his conveniently placed seat, put his hands under her knees and draped her legs over his shoulders.

"I seem to recall a certain preference being expressed atop that bus awhile back." He drawled, squinting up at her, and he gave her what could only be described as the grin of the devil's own imp.

Carol's breath left her all in a rush. No one had ever done this for her. _Ever._

"_Daryl_—I was only teasing—you don't have to…" she said, blushing, knowing from her marriage that men didn't really like doing it.

"You don't want me to? You don't like it?" he asked softly with gentle puzzlement, lightly running the calloused pads of his fingertips along her calves and down to her slender ankles.

"I know you're just being kind—_men don't_…" she let her voice trail off and shrugged, closing her eyes and letting her head dip to her left shoulder in embarrassment.

"Who fed you that line a' _bullshit_—old Ed?" Daryl said, quietly angry for her sake. He gripped her knees and gave them a gentle shake, trying to get her to look at him, "Well, maybe I'm all screwed up, sweetheart, but I _love_ it." And he did. He'd been lucky enough to have an excellent tutorial in the fine art of oral appreciation of the female form when he'd been only twenty, and had always gotten rave reviews for his technique. There was nothing like giving a woman pleasure from this, hearing her scream in ecstasy and watching her fall apart while at the same time he reveled in the sweet taste and silky textures of her most secret places.

_"Really?"_ she asked, daring to look down at him, and he gave her a wide eyed solemn nod that dissolved into that same imp's smile.

"Now you best find somethin' to hold onto." He warned her and his head dipped low to press a kiss to the insides of her knees, kissing and nibbling his way up her thighs, and she watched with a sort of stunned fascination as this big rough man ever so delicately worked to relax her into accepting his worship of her body. He ran the fingertips of his right hand through her curls and then his big thumb dipped inside to find her wetness, pressing through the folds to reach that rigid jut of flesh that was the center of her pleasure, sighing when he found it already swollen with need. Her hips bucked against him and she cried out as he moved his thumb up and back while he watched her face, gauging her responsiveness and smiling as he felt the trembling in her legs around his shoulders. He moved his left hand to join the right, spreading her wider and taking his first taste of her.

_His tongue was so soft,_ Carol thought, _so different from his rough but gentle fingers. _It was like the whole spectrum of textures was being lavished on her all at once. She felt overwhelmed, wanting to tell him how good it was, how amazing it felt, but all she could manage to do was gasp and moan and say his name, over and over, like a mantra, a holy chant invoking some sex god she now worshiped.

"_Never thought I'd be so happy this side a' Paradise."_ Daryl murmured, looking up at her, and then returned his mouth to her, working until she found her point of no return, but even then he continued, knowing it could be better, deeper, using his fingers then, curving up inside her to find that spot that would make her totally lose any semblance of control she had left.

Something intruded on her bliss, some new noise she didn't like. Carol tried to control her breathing, to listen, but he was starting again and so she tried to ignore it, letting the tension build…

The soft knock became more insistent and Daryl finally had to give up and release her, planting one last kiss on her mound and spreading his hand over her heaving belly, still recovering from the third orgasm in a row he'd given her.

"Um—Carol?" Beth's voice came from behind the closed locked door.

"What is it Beth?" Carol said, trying to keep her breathy voice neutral, no easy task when Daryl was still lazily nuzzling and kissing her inner thighs.

"Um—I really hate to interrupt you, but there are a couple of _really_ pissed off… and really _naked_ old people out here who want to talk to whoever is in charge…"

* * *

_**AN: Paradise Valley Resort bills itself as "Georgia's premiere clothing optional vacation destination"; it is a real place in Dawsonville, Georgia, north of Atlanta.**_


	6. Chapter 6: Wasted Hearts

_**AN: Hello! Finals are all done, grades are posted, so I'm working on updating all of my WIPs. **_

_**When last we saw Daryl, Carol and Beth, young Miss Greene had interrupted the Caryl bathroom hotness to announce the arrival of a nudist.**_

_**In this chapter we learn more about Paradise Valley, meet the proprietors and see if they have a spare bedroom for some nice MA rated smuttiness...**_

* * *

_**Wasted Hearts**_

"I just don't understand why you people would think it's ok to come on to someone else's property!" An irate sounding older man was reading Beth the riot act. He looked to be about 70, thin, with piercing back eyes, wild white hair and a beard that was long enough to be braided, Dumbledore style, almost to his waist over top of a set of night vision goggles hanging on a green webbed strap. Other than that and what looked like a pair of swords strapped to his wiry back and the rifle he carried, he was completely nude.

Daryl put Carol behind him as he limped into the room to face the old man confronting Beth rather loudly. Carol held the pistol she'd been allotted by Rick as her main weapon, the other being her brass knuckle knife, which Daryl now had strapped to his waist, his own big buck knife left at the prison.

He hadn't put his shirt on, and Beth was momentarily taken aback when she saw his tattoos and scars fully visible, but schooled her face to impassiveness when he gave her a warning look.

"These days ain't much left to call our own—everybody seekin' shelter from the storm. Sorry to intrude, but we just needed a safe place to regroup—lost a lot a good people today." Daryl said deferentially.

"Lost? Like who?" the man asked suspiciously.

"My daddy." Beth said quietly.

"Larry—her_ daddy_!" a second voice spoke from behind the man called Larry—a female voice.

"Dorothy! Told you to stay outside until I dealt with this!" Larry said.

"Nothin' a girl and a crippled up redneck can do to me." Dorothy said, coming into the room. Her long red hair was pulled back in a braid that reached to the middle of her back and like Larry her only "garments" were her goggles and weapons, a sawed off shotgun slung across her back and a machete held in her right hand as well as a long handled canvas bag emblazoned with a red cross, worn diagonally across her chest looped over and across her shoulder.

"Probably right, but I'm more worried about the woman _behind_ the redneck. Why don't you come outa there real slow there with yer hands up n' I won't have to be forced to put a bullet in the man or girl." Larry said, taking aim at Daryl's chest.

Carol quickly stuck the gun in the back of Daryl's pants waist and immediately came out from around him and held up her hands in surrender.

"Take it easy, Larry, no one needs to get hurt here." Carol said calmly, feeling Daryl's hand in the small of her back, holding on to her shirt tightly, holding her back from moving any closer to the old man and woman.

"Now I think we're talkin' the person in charge, m'I right?" Larry asked shrewdly.

"I'm Carol—this is Daryl and Beth. Our group was overrun this morning and we've been on the road since..." Carol began carefully, keeping her eyes on Larry. Then she shifted her gaze to the more sympathetic Dorothy. "Daryl has an injured knee and as you heard, Beth has suffered a terrible loss-we all have, Hershel was...well, he was our _heart._.." the tears filling her eyes were very real; she hadn't allowed herself to dwell on the loss, choosing instead to celebrate the fact that she had found Daryl and Beth, but now it hit her suddenly. She heard Beth choke out an involuntary sob and looked towards her and saw the girl's shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face. Carol took a step towards Beth, but Daryl's hand at her back stopped her with a sharp tug at the same moment Larry cocked his gun warningly.

"Please—you can see how upset she is—let me—" Carol asked, but Larry shook his head no.

"Seen better actresses 'n her try to fool me into lettin' my guard down." Larry scoffed.

"It's _not_ an act—we're just what we've told you." Carol protested. "Look, when I scouted this place there was no evidence of any one living—we're sorry if we've trespassed on your territory—but as you can see, we have some good reasons for needing a place to shelter, at least for the night."

"Be on our way in the mornin' after lending' you a hand with whatever chores you got for us." Daryl promised in his most conciliatory tone, hoping that would buy them at least one night's shelter.

"All those tats-you one a them redneck H.A. gang bangers?" Larry squinted at Daryl assessingly in that same suspicious tone, thrusting his chin out as he looked him over. Carol snorted at the implied slur. She knew a little bit about biker culture from Ed's survivalist group and while some of them were less than savory characters, most of the bikers were regular folks, ranging from school teachers to off duty cops. Truth be told Daryl did have the look of some of the rougher ones, but Hells Angels were a breed unto themselves, true "outlaw" bikers with an underground culture all their own.

"Do we look like motorcycle mamas?" Carol chuckled with a head nod gesture encompassing Beth who frowned and wiped at her eyes, getting better control of herself.

"He could be holding y'all against yer will." Larry said stubbornly and Carol smiled.

"Believe me, when Daryl holds me it's _never_ against my will," Carol said in a warm honeyed tone, leaning ever so slightly back into his touch. Dorothy was watching Daryl closely and saw the momentary relaxation of the tenseness in his stance as he looked at the woman in front of him, his mouth quirking up at the side at her quip.

"_She _your woman? Not Blondie here?" Larry asked Daryl, nodding his head at Beth. In reply Daryl's hand slid around Carol's waist so that his arm encircled her and he pulled her back firmly against him possessively, his hand gripping the front of her shirt.

"Well, all right then." Larry said and lowered his gun. Carol wasn't sure why Daryl affirming their relationship had made the old man decide to trust them, but she'd take it.

"May I lower my hands?" Carol asked, studying the man's face for a clue to his mood. Larry nodded and though Daryl kept his hand at her waist he released his hold on her shirt.

"Where you folks from then?" the old woman Dorothy asked curiously, coming closer to Carol.

"West Georgia Prison until this mornin'." Daryl told her, "Asshole rolled in with a tank and tore the fences to shit, used the big gun ta Swiss cheese the walls—can't go back—walkers everywhere."

"You lose a lot of people? I mean besides..." Dorothy's voices trailed off as she looked apologetically at Beth.

"Yeah." Daryl said sadly, "But we're hoping to meet up with the rest tomorrow at a rendezvous spot."

"Nearby?" Larry asked, suspicious again—he didn't want some other group muscling in.

"Nah—20 clicks from here." Daryl said and Beth looked at him sharply.

"It's that far?" she asked, upset that they had gone so far off course.

"We have a car, Beth—won't take us too long to get there."

"But what if there's a herd? Or more bad people from the Governor's group?" She was verging on hysteria. Pulling out of Daryl's embrace, Carol went to her then. "We have to find Maggie and Glenn, Carol –we _have_ to!"

"I know, honey," Carol soothed, pulling the girl into a hug, "but we have to be safe too—it won't do us any good to go running around in the dark trying to find them, especially when we're all exhausted and Daryl's hurt. This is the safest place we can be right now." At her last statement she looked beseechingly at Dorothy over Beth's shoulder.

"How'd you get in here anyhow?" Larry asked Daryl, seeming perturbed that someone had breached their defenses.

"Bolt cutters." Daryl said succinctly, and Larry grew agitated.

"You cut the chains? God damn it! With the gates open—"

"Put a new lock on—it's still secure...well, from anyone who ain't got bolt cutters..." Daryl interrupted dryly, and Larry backed off a bit. "You the ones put that extra layer a' death out 'round the perimeter?" Daryl asked with a mix of disgust and admiration. It was a great defense strategy despite its drawbacks.

"Her idea." Larry said, cocking a thumb back to point at Dorothy. "She found out if'n you put their innards on ya they stay away, so just like they can hear and see we figured they must still be able to smell—lizard brain left intact."

"Larry was a herpetologist." Dorothy said fondly, "I was a D.O." she announced and then looked over at Daryl, "Take a look at that knee if you want."

_"Dory!"_ Larry exclaimed angrily, but she just snorted at him.

"They could've come out with guns blazing, but they waited patiently and spoke well. I got a good feeling about them—and you know my feelings are never wrong." Dorothy said stoutly. Then she looked at Carol and Beth. "Besides it's safer in the main house—please, be our guests. We promise we're not homicidal cannibals or perverts, just nudists."

Beth's eyes got wider and she looked to Carol for reassurance. Carol looked to Daryl, a whole nonverbal conversation happening between them. _Should we trust them? We are in their territory..._

"Are there others of you?" Daryl asked, wanting to know if there was a possibility they would be overwhelmed if they went with the old couple.

"Three more, but they went out on a scavenging trip three days ago and haven't returned." Dorothy said and Larry glared at her for giving away the information.

"And you? Just you three here, you say?" Larry challenged.

"As I said, we're part of a larger group that got separated this morning." Carol said, "We really do just need to rest a bit before we head out in the morning." Larry stared at them stubbornly until Dorothy came over to Daryl and reached up to place a hand on his chest, over his heart, while staring into his eyes. Daryl startled back slightly at her touch and Carol released Beth and moved protectively towards Daryl, but he held up his hand to stop her, holding his index finger up, as in _"give me a minute here."_

The old woman leaned close to his face and sniffed, _smelling_ him and then reached down and lifted his right hand in hers and smelled it as well and then she went over to Carol and Beth and did the same, then smiled slyly before releasing each and stepping back.

"They won't be any trouble, Lawrence." Dorothy told her counterpart. And then she addressed the three refugees, "Gather your things, children."

"Can we keep our weapons?" Daryl asked, not wanting to go into a potentially dangerous situation unarmed.

"Promise to use them in defense only, of course." Dorothy said, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course." Carol said quickly, smoothing over the insulted look Daryl flashed her.

"Then welcome to Paradise Valley." Dorothy said, "Georgia's premiere clothing optional resort and spa."

"Uh—does that mean we have to—" began Daryl uncomfortably, and both Dorothy and Larry chuckled at his discomfort. The only person Daryl wanted to see _him_ naked was Carol, and the sooner the better...

"Well, looks like you're already halfway there, son, but no, it's optional, not required." Larry assured him with a grin. He held out his hand to Daryl, "Lawrence McConnell, you can call me Larry. I ran this place before the world went to shit. Sort of a second career and lifestyle choice as it were."

Daryl gave his hand a firm shake and then stepped back to motion Carol and Beth closer and they each introduced themselves and Larry shook their hands in turn.

"And I'm Dorothy Springer; I was the resident physician here." Dorothy said. "We should get going—too much activity at night with lights and such attracts the wrong sort of attention and we don't have any more night vision tech."

* * *

Entering the old fashioned slanted cellar doors, Daryl, Carol and Beth had no idea that they were entering anything other than a basement, but the large brick mansion had a secret. It was only the visible part of a much larger complex that had been dug deep into the red Georgia earth. Privacy was one of the things that Paradise Valley promised its residents and the underground area of the main house was one of the ways it guaranteed that.

Equipped with green technology including solar collectors and a set of windmills on a nearby ridge, it also still had limited electricity. The lights flipped on as soon as the doors closed behind them and the clean, warm tropical plant filled room with light-well sky lights and a kidney shaped in-ground pool shocked the hell out of the three of them. It really did look like the Garden of Eden.

"Paradise Valley." Daryl muttered, leaning a bit more heavily on Carol who was supporting him under his right shoulder.

"It's beautiful." Beth said in wonder, setting down their gear bags and turning in a circle.

"It's home.' Dorothy said with sadness, and when Carol met her eyes questioningly, she added, "We've had to do things that we regret to keep it." Carol nodded, thinking of her own choices, of the walker studded gates and fence to this complex. Daryl tensed, wondering if this was where the other shoe dropped, but Dorothy just nodded back and motioned them forward.

"Infirmary is this way, I'll check your injuries and then we'll show you where you can rest." Dorothy said.

"You look like you're ready to drop, Missy," Larry said, looking at Beth kindly.

"I'm fine." Beth argued, but swayed slightly with exhaustion.

"I'll take her on ahead to a room, if that's ok with you?" Larry said to Carol and Daryl.

Daryl beckoned Beth close and handed her the pistol.

"He gets outa line, you use this, a 'right?" Daryl said with a touch of menace. Beth nodded solemnly as she took the gun and cocked the trigger. Larry scowled at them but beckoned Beth forward and they disappeared through the greenery on a brick path to the left.

"She'll be fine—poor thing looks ready to fall asleep on her feet." Dorothy said, starting down the right side path, expecting them to follow. "It's not far."

* * *

"Well, she seems to know what she's doing." Carol said as she stood in the doorway to the en suite bathroom, looking in. To save power they had lit the candles Dorothy had provided, creating a quite romantic setting in the comfortably sized tile covered room.

"She don't strike you as a little _off_?" Daryl said, raising his hand, beckoning her in to join him. He'd already washed his hair and slicked it back off of his forehead, somehow making him look like a sexy 20s silent film star and Carol smiled at him.

"Not especially—we've met stranger." Carol shrugged, pulling her shirt off over her head. Quickly removing the rest of her clothing, she slid into the steaming waters filling the large bathtub where Daryl reclined, luxuriating in being able to immerse his whole sore body under the relaxing heat. Dorothy had explained that the complex had its own wells and the pool acted as a reservoir, so they could take showers or a bath if they wanted. The "gray" water was then recycled as irrigation for the plants.

"She _smelled_ us!" Daryl scoffed, but smiled appreciatively at Carol getting naked for him. This whole nudist colony atmosphere might have its perks after all.

"To see if we smelled the same?" Carol speculated, "To see if we were telling the truth about us."

"Smelled like _sex_, S'what she _smelled._" Daryl waggled his eyebrows at her, reminding her what they'd been doing just before the nudists had shown up.

Carol settled in facing him, and he leaned down and took her feet in his hands, massaging them and then picking up the washcloth and large cake of soap, lathered it up and washed them with care. He moved to her ankles next, continuing to draw her forward, working his way up her calves to knees and thighs, lathering and rinsing as he went, returning her favor from earlier in the day. She leaned back, enjoying his gentle touch and watched him.

When he reached the junction of her thighs she very deliberately drew her knees apart to give him better access and after cleaning and rinsing her quite thoroughly he kept one hand there, playing, while the other moved to soap her breasts, circling, pinching her slippery nipples to tight buds. Then dragging her up, holding her over him with one big hand in the center of her chest, over her collarbone, he leaned closer so he could worry them with his lips and tongue. She kept her hands against the edge of the tub, bracing herself above him.

_"Daryl..."_ Carol moaned, feeling herself edging closer to what she knew would be waves of pleasure again if she let him continue what he was doing for much longer.

_"Mmm?"_ he rumbled and she felt his teeth graze her nipple and she cried out at the tiny sharp nip. He moaned, kissing and licking it in apology, making it both hard and tender and then sucked down there, still stroking her now slick center, pumping his middle finger in and out rapidly, readying her for the next step, until she grabbed at his hair, pulling on it to get his attention.

"Oh _god _Daryl, I'm _coming_—please! I need more_—I need you inside_ me _now_," feeling his surging cock press against her belly even as she said it, even as her orgasm rose.

"Here?" he asked her, wondering if she wanted to adjourn to the big bed in the next room, but she was too far gone and released his hair so she could grab at his wrist to remove his finger at her core and replace it with his cock.

_ "Here!"_ she demanded and shimmied her hips up and over him and felt the broad head push in, and she screamed with both her orgasm and the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely by him. She pushed down on him, biting her lip at the delicious razor's edge of good pain—she hadn't been with a man in a long time, and Daryl was, well, he was more than she was used to even before that.

_"Oh holy shit."_ Daryl gasped; the feeling of being exactly where he was supposed to be, of coming _home_ so powerful it brought tears to his eyes. Her fever hot tight wet pussy grasped at his cock, spasming and holding him inside even as he felt the unalterable urge, the imperative to move, to buck against her and thrust and fuck her hard, but he fought it, letting her surge and come against him, fluttering his fingers against her clit until her noises faded to whimpers and she trembled uncontrollably in his arms.

Daryl kissed her temple and she raised her face to his, looking into his eyes, helpless with love and they kissed tenderly, and then more passionately as she felt him surge and swell inside her.

"I need to move..." he whispered after breaking the kiss, and slid their bodies onto their sides, protecting his bad knee, drawing her thigh over his, slightly changing the angle of penetration, hoping it would help him hit that place inside that he'd been lucky enough to find once or twice, and held her hips still as he started to move.

Carol thought she was done, spent, content to let him finish on his own, never having come that long and hard before, and never with a partner that wasn't battery powered silicone, but as he thrust into her irregularly at first, trying to find his rhythm, licking at her neck and collarbone, she felt that tell tale tingle start in her fingers and toes, rushing like a current to her core.

And then he found it, his strokes smoothing out, his hips churning the water over the sides of the cool porcelain to splash on the tiles below, the tip of him bumping up against that spot on her honeyed inner walls that activated an electrical surge, concentrating all sensation and pleasure there once again.

Carol's spine bent back and she clawed at his shoulders, sucking in a gasping breath as he continued to thrust into her, faster, and her breath released as a long guttural scream of ecstasy, twining herself around him like clinging ivy.

"Oh _fuck _yeah, sweetheart, come around me like that, _come on—again_—" Daryl urged her, breathing hard, grunting with every thrust, almost there, wanting to feel her tighten around his cock while he found his release—and then she did, wailing his name, and he couldn't hold off any more.

Carol felt it, the hot gushing rush as he came inside her, sending more ripples of pleasure through her belly and chest, floating, and she found his mouth with hers, thrusting her tongue inside to kiss him deeply. Daryl whimpered, kissing her back, raising his arms so that one hand was around her torso and the other cradled the back of her head, rocking with her in the warm womblike waters of the big tub.

* * *

"We got sort of _pruny_," Carol said, holding her and Daryl's hands out in front of her face as they cuddled in the big four poster bed after they left the bath. She lay cradled against his chest, his right arm around her, his knee propped up on a few pillows. It was the most normal either of them had felt in a long time.

"Feel guilty havin' this when god knows what the others are doin'." Daryl said, sounding pensive.

"We'll head out first thing in the morning to find them—" Carol began, knowing they'd have to somehow figure out a way to deal with Rick and Tyreese, but Daryl interrupted her.

"I really was comin' to look for you." Daryl said, "I wouldn't have left you out here alone," Carol's grip on him loosened and she sat up so she could see his face. "No matter what Rick thinks you did."

"I confessed, Daryl." Carol told him carefully. "And Rick told me I can't come back. I don't know if what just happened between you and me changes that,"

_ "This ain't just sex."_ Daryl blurted out angrily.

"It's not?" Carol asked, struggling to keep the hope out of her voice.

"My momma always said there's nothin' worse 'n a wasted heart...if you love someone you should tell'em. My daddy never did...never did tell her. I 'as only eight when she died, but I remember that every day she told me she loved me...'cept the last day..." Daryl stopped and sighed; still unsure if what _he_ was feeling...what he was _thinking _about _them _was the same as what she was.

"Daryl—I'm sorry about your mother." Carol said quietly, filling the growing silence behind his hesitation; realizing there was so much she still didn't know about him. And the idea of the lonely motherless little boy he had probably been tugged at her heart.

"Am I like my momma, Carol? Am I wastin' my heart here, lovin' you?" Daryl asked quietly; gazing intently at her, still so soft and flushed pink from their lovemaking.

"I don't even remember anymore when I _started _loving you, Daryl Dixon." Carol told him with a small wry smile, taking his hand in hers.

"For me it was at the quarry camp." Daryl said shyly, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"When I put that pick axe through Ed's skull, you said to yourself, _'that's the gal for me'_?" she said ironically and he winced and shook his head at her. She'd surprised him with that act, but it had been the night _before _when he'd seen who she really was.

"When I saw you puttin' yourself between Sophia n' the walkers." he said with great feeling. "Knowin' you was ready to die to save yer girl."

Carol wiped away the sudden tears at the mention of her daughter.

"I heard you—at the church—prayin' for God to punish you and not your little girl for wantin' him dead...heard my momma make the same one...saw her take it from him so's he wouldn't go after me..." Daryl's voice was low, monotone, struggling to get his story out so she'd understand why he admired her courage so much.

"Oh god, Daryl...did he—did your father..."

"Might as well had. Beat her so bad she took to her bed with her smokes and her wine, locked us out, house burned down around her." Daryl had never known if it was an accident or a deliberate escape, but the end result was the same. She'd opted out on him.

"I'm so sorry." Carol said, crying in earnest now.

"Need to know you won't do that—won't leave me like that—need the truth," he pleaded desperately, tears in his eyes as well.

"Daryl! I can't—it's not my place!" Carol cried, pulling away, but Daryl took a hold of her upper arms, shaking her.

"Damn it Carol, tell me! If you did it, you gotta explain why—what you were thinkin', but for Christ's sakes if you _didn't_ do it I need to know who did—_they_ could be a danger to the group!"

"It would _destroy_ Rick..." Carol said softly, almost under her breath.

"What? _Rick?_ Why?" Daryl asked, confused, but as he looked at her miserable expression he suddenly knew the answer to his own question and released her, subsiding back against the headboard.

"I couldn't tell him." Carol whispered. She knew how fragile Rick was, how important that he have hope for the future; she couldn't tell her friend the truth about his son.

"Carl. It was Carl." Daryl said, devastated.

* * *

**_Dun dun duuunnn!_**


End file.
